First he procured a plan of the fortress from a gendarme, and then, when we were shown into the room allotted to us, and our baggage was examined, the false bottom of his trunk was not noticed, and by this means various instruments he had bought on the road escaped detection.  Round his body O’Brien had also wound a rope of silk, sixty feet long, with knots at every two feet.

The practicability of escape from Givet seemed to me impossible.  The yard of the fortress was surrounded by a high wall; the buildings appropriated for the prisoners were built with lean-to roofs on one side, and at each side of the square was a sentry looking down upon us.  We had no parole, and but little communication with the towns-people.

But O’Brien, who often examined the map he had procured from the gendarme, said to me one day, “Peter, can you swim?”

“No,” replied I; “but never mind that.”

“But I must mind it, Peter; for observe we shall have to cross the River Meuse, and boats are not always to be had.  This fortress is washed by the river on one side; and as it is the strongest side it is the least guarded—­we must escape by it.  I can see my way clear enough till we get to the second rampart on the river, but when we drop into the river, if you cannot swim, I must contrive to hold you up somehow or other.  But first tell me, do you intend to try your luck with me?”

“Yes,” replied I, “most certainly, if you have sufficient confidence in me to take me as your companion.”

“To tell you the truth, Peter, I would not give a farthing to escape without you.  We were taken together, and, please God, we’ll take ourselves off together, directly we get the dark nights and foul weather.”

We had been about two months in Givet when letters arrived.  My father wrote requesting me to draw for whatever money I might require, and also informing me that as my Uncle William was dead, there was now only one between him and the title, but that my grandfather, Lord Privilege, was in good health.  O’Brien’s letter was from Captain Savage; the frigate had been sent home with despatches, and O’Brien’s conduct represented to the Admiralty, which had, in consequence, promoted him to the rank of lieutenant.  We read each other’s letters, and O’Brien said, “I see your uncle is dead.  How many more uncles have you?”

“My Uncle John, who is married, and has already two daughters.”

“Blessings on him!  Peter, my boy, you shall be a lord before you die.”

“Nonsense, O’Brien; I have no chance.”

“What chance had I of being lieutenant, and am I not one?  And now, my boy, prepare yourself to quit this cursed hole in a week, wind and weather permitting.  But, Peter, do me one favour.  As I am really a lieutenant, just touch your hat to me, only once, that’s all; but I wish the compliment, just to see how it looks.”

“Lieutenant O’Brien,” said I, touching my hat, “have you any further orders?”